


"Deliverance, Angel!" A Demon Cries

by D20Owlbear



Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy [16]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's scaliesona is mentioned, Crowley's got a hand on Aziraphale's throat, Impact Play, M/M, No angel or demon names created, Reversal Roleplay, Role Reversal, Sexual Roleplay, They're both Queens but also Drama Queens, as in Angel!Crowley and Demon!Aziraphale, as it turns out huh, bc if Crowley's a snake then ObViOuSlY Aziraphale's got to have a fursona too, but doesn't restrict his breathing, don't ask me why they're weird ok and make poor choices for the DRAMA, don't at me u know i'm right, i don't actually know what to call being restrained by your own weight, in this roleplay being smote is just orgasms, just presses up underneath his jaw to restrain him, kinda not really, low key minor bondage, minor breathplay, sort of predicament bondage?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: 10/12 Days of Blasphemy 2020“Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell” (Proverbs 23:14)Aziraphale and Crowley are really enjoying role-play, this specific scenario is a reversal of their angelic and demonic roles; and an exploration of what it means to be smitten by an angel, rod in hand.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570819
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33
Collections: 12 Days of Blasphemy 2020





	"Deliverance, Angel!" A Demon Cries

**Author's Note:**

> If you know me (or dm me on twitter) I accept concrit.
> 
> And also, sorry not sorry all their role-play scenarios keep coming with like... stupid amounts of world building.

"I just don't think you're very penitent, yanno?" Crowley drawled, twirling a thick birch staff in his fingers and lazily reclined on the chaise lounge in front of Aziraphale.

Aziraphale nearly dropped the tea tray upon entering his study to find his husband bedecked with cream fabric draped along his body strategically, embroidered with gold filigree, like Aziraphale's robes of old but… risqué. Crowley smiled at the way Aziraphale visibly took a moment to compose himself and get his brain back online after it shorted out, and then grinned wide at the subtle change of colors in Aziraphale's clothing.

The lighter creams and beiges, even whites, all turned in the blink of an eye (well, not Crowley's, he did have a bad habit of not blinking) into greys and the dark browns and sickly yellows of a komodo dragon. The night before Aziraphale had asked what his demon aspect would be, he'd always thought that's where the whole snake _thing_ came from for Crowley.

(It wasn't, not quite, Crowley's current affiliation with the snake was almost entirely because of what came after the Fruit and, like, the God-curse didn't help either, but he hadn't wanted to squash Aziraphale's enthusiasm about it. He'd started out wanting a lion, but Crowley ixnayed it quickly, saying that lions were too associated with bravery and purity these days, couldn't have been a demon aspect at all if you thought about it… So komodo dragon it was, and after looking up a few facts of the animal's eating habits and ungodly strength, Crowley agreed.)

Aziraphale set his tea and nibbles on his desk and leaned on the edge of it with his hip in a particularly alluring way, and raised an eyebrow at Crowley with a smirk pulled straight from Crowley's own playbook. It was… distracting is what it was. Crowley's own brain short-circuited for a quick second before jump-starting back into the thick of it and he cleared his throat, sitting up quickly on the lounge for some semblance of control.

"Well, _angel_ ," Aziraphale said with that damned smirk still in place, crossing his arms over his broad chest (wait when did his sleeves get rolled up like that? Fuck, he really was playing dirty), "I just don't know what you were expecting. I've never paid penance for anything in my life."

"And _I_ think its about time someone take you to task for it, _demon_." Crowley sniffed pretentiously and angled his body back a little to look down his nose at Aziraphale. (Did they decide if they knew each other? Shit, he couldn't remember, oh well, they'll figure that out as they go along, he supposed.)

"You've been hounding me for some time now." Aziraphale sat more firmly on the edge of his desk and wiggled a little to get comfortable. Crowley pretended it didn't dry out his mouth with want. "Now you have me, angel, so just _what_ are you going to do about it? Raise me from my perdition? Not likely, not with that rod you have there."

Crowley snorted and tapped the cane to the floor, letting a bit of glamour-like magic trickle through it as it sounded. Just a few waves of visible, golden light spread out from it in concentric circles; nothing actually magical, a human with a clever torch might do the same. But it was enough to set the mood, and Crowley had it on good authority that Aziraphale rather liked it when he set the mood for them.

"No," Crowley replied simply, "Making a demon Rise hasn't proved fruitful, so my offices simply want you smote." He shrugged and stood up nonchalantly and let his wings unfurl from his back, rippling with dove-grey feathers halfway to iridescent in the light still clinging and climbing up the walls from his staff.

"And how will you stop me from simply…" Aziraphale trailed off, rolling his hand in the air to indicate something or other, "leaving?"

Crowley smirked back, his chest puffed a little in pride though nothing so noticeable as a braggart, and replied, "You may try, fiend, but all your escapes are warded against you, and there is nothing to stop me from taking your penance from you."

Aziraphale made a show of looking around and sighed, still smiling slightly as if he might in the end have the upper hand somehow if he submitted now, and raised his hands palm out in front of him. "Oh very well then, angel, you've _caught me_ I suppose. But all this talk about penance I have no desire for, just how _will_ you make me repent?"

Crowley walked with slow, measured steps around the room, ostensibly inspecting its contents and humming curiously or making disgusted noises as necessary. He took his time and was pleased when Aziraphale had stood to follow him, growing more and more annoyed at the lack of Crowley's answer. Just as Aziraphale seemed on the brink of his patience's end, Crowley side-stepped behind him and _thwack_ ed his staff over the back of Aziraphale's knees. It was enough to make Aziraphale drop hard to the floor on his knees, followed by a few taps of his finger on the wooden boards. (Good, good, two taps for _alright keep going_ and one to stop and pull back, recalibrate his strength. Aziraphale had said he wanted to be laid into, that the pain was actually pleasurable, but this assuaged Crowley's worries of going too far, getting too lost in the miasma of pain and forgetting he was meant to be a lover rather than a demon. Sure, it hadn't happened any other time they'd played with blunt force or whips or anything like that, but you've got to plan for those sorts of things.)

Aziraphale snarled over his shoulder at Crowley and made to push himself up only to be reprimanded firmly with another swat of the long birch rod in Crowley's hands, this time across the back from shoulder to opposite hip, forcing him down again onto his hands.

"Is _this_ your game?" Aziraphale jeered, his lip quirked up into a mocking sneer, "Do you think anything so pedestrian as pain would break me in any way that mattered?"

Crowley only stared back impassively, he hit Aziraphale with the staff each time he tried to get up, which totaled perhaps ten times in the next hour, but Crowley was nothing if not Patient. It was, after all, a Virtue. He did not speak when Aziraphale hurled insults his way nor did he lose his temper and delve into Wrath when Aziraphale shouted his ire. But then, eventually, Aziraphale did not try to stand up again. He simply glared over his shoulder at Crowley on his hands and knees, and scratched his nail over the floorboards twice.

"Good," Crowley praised distantly, "You're learning."

"Learning what?" Aziraphale asked softly, the sharpness of his glare didn't diminish but, well–

"Manners." Crowley shot back without missing a beat. "You're learning to respect your betters, lest you be struck down for it."

"Oh, believe you me, struck down is the least of my worries, angel." Aziraphale sneered again, but did not brace for the stroke of the rod whipping to lay a stripe across his arse. He yelped in surprise, and Crowley smiled benevolently.

"You must be awfully sore, brute though you may be, perhaps you ought not backtalk so much if you want to know why I'm here." Crowley smirked and sauntered around to stand before Aziraphale, within easy reach, waiting to see what he'd do. A bit of turnabout, after all, hadn't been off the table last night…

"Fine then," Aziraphale visibly fought his desire to snarl or growl at Crowley (and though Crowley _loved_ that deep lions-growl Aziraphale could pull up at a moment's notice that resonated in his bones, now wasn't the time for it), and Crowley nodded encouragingly, condescendingly, "just what are your aims, _angel_?"

(Crowley decided to let that one go, the venom in the 'angel,' it was technically a title and he couldn't imagine any angel getting up in arms about being called it, even if it was meant to be derogatory.)

"Oh, not mine, never just mine. This is simply business, you know. I'm here to 'beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell' as demanded of me by my superiors. You're simply the demon I was able to track down first, though I can't imagine you'll be the last…" Crowley murmured (and grinned inwardly at the fire that last bit seemed to stoke in Aziraphale's eyes, gosh he loved when Aziraphale got possessive, it was nice especially in these little games where they could play it up).

Then, something changed in Aziraphale and Crowley couldn't quite tell what it was, only that he ought to be wary of it. The demon before him on the floor shifted his weight and seemed to widen his stance on his knees for balance and his head rose up defiantly to stare at Crowley. The piercing gaze on Aziraphale alone nearly made Crowley strike him again, if only to buy himself some time to claw his balance back, but left him feeling very wrong-footed.

"Really now…" Aziraphale drawled, voice low and rumbling, and it looked like he'd made an effort to change the shape of his tongue into something forked like the massive lizard he'd chosen the night before to lick his lips with. The room ratcheted up a few degrees and Crowley couldn't help but feel like the tables had been turned without him realizing as he stared at Aziraphale's lips, waiting with bated breath to hear what came from them next.

"Y– yes, really." Crowley mumbled dumbly.

"That seems a little _greedy_ for an angel, no? Aren't _I_ your adversary, your nemesis?" Aziraphale continued to drawl, sensuous and hypnotic, "Do you lust for violence so much that you seek it out in demons to destroy? What a terrible angel you must make, other than your blind devotion to whoever claims to be your superior." The disdain was palpable. (Inwardly Crowley had to applaud his show, it was rather good, actually, he just… didn't know what to say to it.)

Crowley said nothing. He only walked out of Aziraphale's sight on bare feet and the very tips of his wings dragging on the ground behind him folded up as they were, making as little noise as possible without cushioning his steps with another burst of magic, and loudly sipped at Aziraphale's tea. It'd gone cold, of course, but Crowley hadn't really been all that sophisticated, no matter how much he play-acted at it when such things were necessary for temptations he'd never been one for such things in his leisure. Aziraphale's shoulders tensed at the sound of slurping, which Crowley was happy to do so noisily and drawn out. Good, it meant he was off kilter too, at least that made two of them…

"You know," Crowley began slowly, drawing out his words as long as he could without seeming like he had no clue where this was going next, to pretend like he was in charge here, "I don't necessarily _want_ to do this, or be down here. It's all a bit dusty, down on earth, don't you think? I'd rather just get things done as I've been told to and then… let the rest of it take care of itself. I don't really _care_ if humans have another demon to contend with, if they can't stick true to their morals and their knowledge of good and evil, what sort of use is their soul after all? Never could quite understand the obsession with quantity over quality, but you know how it is…"

Aziraphale scoffed and murmured an agreement, which intrigued Crowley. He stepped up close to where Aziraphale still knelt and crouched down at his side, leaning on his plain martial staff for a bit more balance, and looked. Just looked, watched Aziraphale's face and how his eyes flicked around the room and back to Crowley, always back to Crowley and his staff, and waited once more. For what he wasn't sure, but for something. Some sign of something.

"Then why do you?" Aziraphale asked softly, "And what _will_ you do?"

(Ah, there it was. Right there on a silver platter, and Crowley's heart swelled with so much affection he nearly couldn't stop the smile from blooming on his lips, but no, best stay in character, whatever _that_ was. But he did so love his clever, witty angel, so very much. He took a moment to let Aziraphale tamp his own smile down, the bastard probably felt that love, and then continued.)

"I'll smite you," Crowley replied conversationally, "Like I told you I would, as I _am_ an angel of my word, and then I will wait for you to come back, and then I will smite you again. And, god willing, I'll smite you each and every time you come crawling back onto this hovel of a planet filled with creatures of 'free will' and the like to keep you in check, since that is more adherent to the letter of my orders anyway."

"Oh?" Aziraphale murmured, he had gone a bit breathy and his pupils were wide, and Crowley merely smiled back, pleased at how Aziraphale was reacting. "And how– how are you intending on smiting me, angel? I had thought such a thing was more… permanent."

(Was it just Crowley, or was Aziraphale panting? No, no, not just him. Fantastic.)

"Not the way I do it." Crowley flicked his hair over his shoulder and kept smiling. "I'm told it's quite an out of body experience actually. Though the demon I had previously been… reforming has, ah, become more permanently indisposed."

Aziraphale only eyed him warily and then with a bit of outright worry when Crowley raised his hand and snapped. With a small expenditure of magic, Aziraphale was on his back, Crowley's staff underneath him, and threaded over his elbows so that Aziraphale's own weight was pinning his arms down. With a tuneless hum, Crowley stepped over and straddled Aziraphale's hips, leaning over his body with a slight stretch to place his hand at the top of Aziraphale's throat, just underneath his jaw. Not enough to cut off any air, even if they didn't need it, just as a point of control really. Aziraphale's hips bucked up at the contact and a soft sigh of a moan escaped him, Crowley smirked.

"Look at what we have here," Crowley reached down and palmed his free hand at the bulge in Aziraphale's trousers, "You were getting off on that weren't you? How disgusting. Just like a demon to find pleasure in an angel teaching you your place." Aziraphale whimpered underneath him and Crowley, well, he didn't take _pity_ of course, but it was something like it. (Mercy, perhaps, that was good and angelic probably.)

Another burst of magic, this time not heralded by an audible snap, and Aziraphale was unclothed underneath him; he hissed at the change, the sting of the abraded skin left by Crowley's staff was likely smarting on the cool floors. Crowley crooned and wrapped his fingers around Aziraphale's cock, loosely stroking along the length of it, nothing close to what Aziraphale would need to cum, but precisely enough to tease and rile him up a bit.

Aziraphale moaned and tried to buck his hips up or grind against Crowley, but he was a bit too well-versed in the wiles of demons (Aziraphale in particular, truthfully) and squeezed his knees around Aziraphale's sides to lift himself up with the motion and disallow anything more than he was willing to give Aziraphale at the moment.

"Fuck!" Aziraphale hissed a curse and attempted to lean up to look at Crowley, but he was kept from that endeavor as well with Crowley's hand on his throat. Crowley hummed happily at the twitch of Aziraphale's cock upon realizing that he was rather helpless. The look that passed over Aziraphale's face when it hit him was rather delicious too. If Crowley had worn any sort of effort underneath his robes it might have been enough to get him interested, but he was having far more fun teasing Aziraphale than he would have if he was concerned about his own pleasure, likely.

"It's fruitless to fight me," Crowley murmured, letting his tone grow soothing and his voice low and monotone, as if whispering a babe back to sleep, "Just let this happen. You'll be smitten, demon, and you'll be made empty of your evil, and then you will sleep. Then, in some time, I will come back to you and I will beat you as you need so that I may deliver you unto heaven, and keep those humans you choose to torment from your reach. I will bind you with chains if you resist me, and I will spill you until you are empty… Do you understand me, demon?"

Aziraphale whined and writhed under Crowley, desperately trying to reach for him, as ineffectual as it was, and force any amount of friction to his cock, overflowing with precum as it was. Crowley tightened his grip on Aziraphale's throat for just a moment and shook him, gripping firmly at Aziraphale's cock as well, hard enough not to be wholly pleasurable, even for a demon who clearly got off on this sort of thing.

"I _asked_ you, do you understand me, demon?" Crowley growled low and powerfully from his chest.

Aziraphale nodded and sobbed in reply, "Yes, _yes_ , angel!"

"Very good," Crowley purred and released his confining grips until they were enjoyable once more. "I think you deserve to be smote, hm? You seem to like it well enough to be brought low before an angel, you seem to think that once I am done with you that perhaps I will leave in search of another demon. But no, if you are so greedy and in need of this deliverance, then so be it. I will be your savior and the savior of those around you, demon, and I will not be lax in my duties."

Aziraphale's hips jerked each time Crowley's hand moved up to wrap around the head of his cock, his thumb passing over the slit and deft fingertips caught on the underside along the crown of the glans with each upward stroke. (Crowley had taken great pains to learn _exactly_ how Aziraphale liked to be tossed off, and he was always more than happy to apply said learning practically.) Aziraphale moaned softly, clearly keeping himself quiet as much as he could manage, but Crowley wasn't going to accept that.

"I think you may have misunderstood me," Crowley murmured. He leaned forward and balancing himself on his knees as well as where his hand pressed into the underside of Aziraphale's jaw, resting a slight amount of his weight on his head, until his breath was hot over one of Aziraphale's nipples and he could dart his tongue out to lick. Aziraphale moaned louder at the touch and his hips jolted at the additional stimuli. (Crowley could feel the folds of silken fabric of his criminally short and revealing 'robes' brushing over where he was stroking Aziraphale's cock, and he hoped it added to the experience, knowing very well that it would if the situation were reversed.)

"I want you to spill over, both places my hands have touched you, I will brand you with my palms and fingers, and the truth will overflow from your throats. And _that_ means, my dear demon," Crowley mocked happily, smirking happily at the whine that tore from Aziraphale's mouth, "you are not to silence yourself when I am smiting you. I want all those who may hear to know who your subduer is."

"Angel," Aziraphale moaned, his hips rocked with each motion of Crowley's hand and his back arched, pushing his chest against Crowley's mouth, who was more than happy to take advantage of that and bite into his breast, marking up his sweet flesh.

"Angel, angel, _angel please_!" Aziraphale chanted, begging underneath Crowley for release. Crowley, for his part, was happy to give it to him, licking and sucking and biting as many marks as he pleased into Aziraphale's skin, leaving him with all the bruises on his front to match the beating on his back, one mark for every stroke of Crowley's staff over the hour and change he'd been trained into staying down in the dirt where demons belonged.

"Your pleas have been heard," Crowley whispered, his hand on Aziraphale's cock speeding up (Crowley enjoyed best when Aziraphale was trembling underneath him, or over him he wasn't too picky in truth, and unable to contain his physical pleasure any more in the moments before he came) until Aziraphale's thighs quivered underneath him and his stomach muscles tightened.

With another loud, gasping moan, Aziraphale spilled over Crowley's hand as his hips jerked in time with the spasms of his cock, but Crowley didn't cease. There were still four more marks needed, and any oversensitivity from his _smiting_ would simply teach the beast for next time, not to give in so easily. Crowley did love a challenge after all.

Aziraphale whined and twitched even as he lay limp on the floor, his breathing ragged. Crowley tightened his grip once more, just a little, on Aziraphale's throat until all the bruises and bites were in place where they ought to be on Aziraphale's chest and collar and shoulders where Crowley could reach, and only then did he stop his hand between them.

Crowley removed his hand from Aziraphale's throat, who gasped and pushed himself to his elbows the moment he was able, watching Crowley with dazed, fucked out eyes and clearly fighting for some semblance of control of himself. It was quickly lost again when Crowley brought his hand up to his mouth to lick clean of his demonic essence, and how it fairly dripped from the front of his robes.

Aziraphale moaned again and fell back to the floor, eyes shut and regaining his breathing.

" _Well_ then," he muttered under his breath once he had gotten control of himself again.

"Smitten yet, angel?" Crowley asked, leaning down to kiss gently at the center of Aziraphale's chest, and unthread the staff from Aziraphale's arms, tossing it to the side and collapsing onto Aziraphale' stomach.

"Oh, very much so," Aziraphale replied, wrapping his arms around Crowley's back and nuzzling against Crowley's hair with a smile wide enough to feel. "Couldn't have been smittener."

Crowley snorted to hide a giggle before gasping loudly and shoving himself off Aziraphale so quickly he tripped on his robe and landed on the floor right next to Aziraphale, groaning at the impact.

"Oh, my dear!"

"No, 'sss fine, 'm fine," Crowley grumbled, "But your back, gotta fix that 'fore I lay on you!"

"Oh.." Aziraphale chuckled sheepishly, "I had actually hoped you'd forgotten. I think I'd like to keep them. Through a bath to clean up, at least."

"Alright." Crowley shrugged from his place on the floor and snapped, "Bath's drawn with that lavender bubble you like, c'mon. You've got to make sure I get out if I nap though."

"Yes, yes, dear, whatever you like."

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me in a couple of places! I absolutely love to be talked to! Please come interact with me if you're this way inclined~
> 
> Twitter: <https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire>  
> Tumblr: <https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/>


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